


But Wind Enough, And Time

by moveablehistory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Discussion of Abortion, Genderswap, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monster of the Week, Succubi & Incubi, Uncivilized Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-08
Updated: 2006-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moveablehistory/pseuds/moveablehistory
Summary: There's a road, and a desolate-looking little house, and an eerie kind of glow in an upstairs window where there were some obvious unhappy happenings about to be going on. Sam's looking at the clipping he's holding – SERIAL STEALTH RAPIST ATTACKS SIXTH VICTIM – and sets his jaw.“This is the place,” he said with finality, and Dean grinned, a half-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth.“Let's go kill it.”“Yeah.” Sam took the cigarette from Dean's lips, inhaled, then ground it into the asphalt.“Let's.”---Wherein Sam and Dean run afoul of an incubus, and crack ensues. Written during Supernatural Season 2.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 18





	But Wind Enough, And Time

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published on Livejournal in March 2006. 
> 
> Content note: there is some discussion of abortion, unplanned pregnancy and demon babies.

There's a road, and a desolate-looking little house, and an eerie kind of glow in an upstairs window where there were some obvious unhappy happenings about to be going on. Sam's looking at the clipping he's holding – SERIAL STEALTH RAPIST ATTACKS SIXTH VICTIM – and sets his jaw.

“This is the place,” he said with finality, and Dean grinned, a half-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth.

“Let's go kill it.”

“Yeah.” Sam took the cigarette from Dean's lips, inhaled, then ground it into the asphalt.

“Let's.”

“Fucking righteous.”

\--- 

It's nearly midnight, and Sam's itching. Dean looks like he's ready to kill something, or possibly someone, and enjoy every glorious bloody second. There's AC/DC in the cassette player, playing some Back in Black, and Sam liked that he knew the words by now, even if he wouldn't admit it. It's familiar, for once. He popped the Impala's trunk, and propped open the false bottom with a double-barreled sawed-off.

“I hate these things.” Dean eyed the rock-salt-loaded shotgun that Sam handed to him with something akin to dismay, but Sam grinned at him widely, picked up his own sawed-off and glanced at Dean.

“C'mon, Dean. We're in this together.” Sam looked down the bore of his shotgun, embarrassed at having said something so damn chick-flicky without thinking, and loaded the gun, snapping it shut with a satisfying rapclick. He caught Dean glaring at him unabashedly, and Sam slammed the trunk of the Impala shut suddenly, not sure what he's thinking. Dean jumped, surprised at the sudden violence.

“Spooked, are we?” Sam mocked, and Dean frowned at him with surprising prettiness.

“Shut up, Sammy. I could handle this in my sleep.”

“Are you sure you aren't already?” Sam glanced sideways at his brother, and grinned when he saw Dean glaring. It'll never get old, he thought.

\--- 

Getting into the house proved to be no challenge. All Dean had to do was flash his smile when Sam's innocent charm failed to persuade the girl at the door that they ought to be let in, that her mind wasn't really playing these god-awful tricks on her. After that, it was pretty damn easy to set up the trap, to convince her to stay away while they dealt with the ghoulie-of-the-week. The exorcism that their father send them was actually very straightforward, and very old. In fact, Sam felt kind of dumb that he hadn't figured it out, since it's damn biblical.

“Have you ever heard of killing an incubus?” Dean asked, and Sam shook his head. Aside from what their father sent them, there was nothing in the journal, and none of the research he'd done had come up with anything about actually killing it. Sending it back to hell seemed easy enough, but incubi were apparently very out of the ordinary.

The exorcism didn't even have to be in Latin. What a let down he thought.

Dean was hoping for a bit more of a show, he liked it when their usual prey dissolved into little pieces or explored and burned with satisfactory crackling. Usually, it was pretty fucking hard to kill a demon, but this one left without much fuss at all. It died, or at least ended, very prettily, surprising really because the exorcism wasn't even that powerful, the demon's male form just crumpling but not before it smiled at Dean and blew him an air kiss.

“Dude, that was pretty fucking weird.” Dean said, and he wasn't quite sure if it was because it died so easily or because of that creepy air kiss. Probably both, actually.

“Whatever, Dean. Let's just get out of here. I'll even let you drive.” Sam said condescendingly, and Dean mocked him with his eyes before sliding into the car.

At least they've had one more night of all shotguns and glory.

\--- 

It was a half day and two states away when Dean's eyes fluttered shut, and then wide wide open again, a hand at his stomach and dry heaves over the steering wheel.

“Hey, hey- Dean!” Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder and shifted the car into neutral before Dean could crash them both. A long stream of cars honked by them and Dean flipped them all off painfully as the Impala rolled to a stop on the shoulder. “This is how accidents happen, Dean! God!”

“Ow.” Dean let out finally, and Sam tried not to roll his eyes. Dean glared at him. “Don't think I can't see that snark all bubbling up. Keep that all in or I'll shoot you.” Dean ground out.

Sam laughed a little, knowing his brother wouldn't, and hopped out of the car to running over to the driver's side. “Move over, we'll stop at a gas station and you can get some painkillers or something.” Dean moved over gingerly, and Sam slid into the seat. “There's one off the next exit, just relax, OK?”

Dean looked at him darkly. “You try to relax when you feel like you've got a thousand knives slicing little itty-bitty pieces off your body all damn over.” Sam looked at him carefully, trying not to let the worry he felt show anywhere at all.

“Just to try sleep, OK?” Sam said, and Dean grabbed an extra jacket from the backseat and flung it over himself. Sam just looked, eyes flickering between the road and his brother.

“I'm cold!” Dean complained, and Sam focused on the next exit off the interstate. The next station wasn't that far away at all, and Sam pulled into it, reaching over to wake Dean. He flinched, and scowled at Sam, leaving the car without a word.

\--- 

Much, much later, when the shadows were starting to stretch back into nighttime, Sam woke up. He'd been nodding off in the driver's seat, but three hours had come and gone already and he hadn't even realised it.

Oh shit he thought, and jumped out of the car, running towards to gas station's undoubtedly grimy washroom. Sam nudged the door open, and noticed a pretty girl. He looked past her but smiled winningly and said, “Oh, sorry. Have you seen a guy come in here? Kinda short, dorky looking...”

The girl glared at him, and spat out, “It's me, you jerk.” Sam held his breath and dragged his eyes over the girl's body, seeing Dean in the way she stood and spoke and had a ring way to big for her fingers. Sam let out the breath. “Oh, fuck. This can't be good.”

“Understatement, much?” Dean gasped out, and Sam took a step closer to reach out to touch his brother, just to make sure he was real and not some messed-up nightmare. “Don't touch me!” Dean shrieked, and Sam pulled his hands back.

“Whoa, easy there.”

“What the fuck is going on!” Dean squealed, in a manner so him and yet not that Sam felt he ought to do a double-take.

“I have no clue, Dean.” Sam said, taking a deep breath and trying not to freak out like he knew he might at any damn second. Sam stepped towards him, but Dean's eyes went wide and he stepped back. “Fuck, stay away!”

“We need to do something.” Sam ground out, but Dean smiled, all pale and cold.

“Like what? Go to the friendly neighbourhood ER doctor and say 'Hi Doc, my brother turned into a girl.' Any other bright ideas?”

Sam shook his head and they started walking back to the Impala. “We don't have to say that. We can just say that you aren't feeling good, you might be sick. You're not supposed to be feeling like crap, even if you're switched up like that. There's something wrong – we can't keep driving like this. We've got to stop.” Sam looked over at Dean, who was sliding down into the seat, curling up. Sam reached behind him and grabbed a sweater of the backseat, and threw it at Dean.

\--- 

Dr. Brentwood smiled at them both much too widely for Sam's liking. “Congratulations! You're pregnant!”

Dean fainted, (Oh, my God! Sam thought) and caught him before he slid to the ground. “Way to be all girly.” He whispered, lifted (Dean flinched, even in his unconsciousness) him back up onto the bed and propped him up against the pillows.

“Oh, is she alright? I didn't mean to shock her, but it couldn't have been the big of a surprise, she's five weeks along anyways.” The doctor didn't seemed concerned at all.

“Is she alright? How about the baby?” Sam asked, just a little frantically, but the doctor leveled a gaze at him.

“How are you related? I can't tell you anything unless you're the father or related.” Sam glanced at Dean, asleep and seemingly oblivious. “I'm her brother. I don't know who the father is.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” The doctor frowned, and Sam recoiled. Ughhhhh! The irony that he was being perfectly truthful and not believed at all wasn't lost on him. “Try again.” The doctor said, and Sam pasted a happy expression on his face.

“Caught us! We just eloped, scary family members and all, y'know.”

The doctor seemed much more comfortable with that, which confused Sam to no end.

“She just passed out. That can't be healthy.” Sam said, eased away from the doctor and leaned against the examination bed, studying his nails, trying to look as nonchalant as he possibly could. “My, uh, wife is probably going to abort, but in case she doesn't, how should I take care of her?”

“Normal things, like lots of bed rest and sleep. She should have as little stress as possible, and should avoid all alcoholic beverages and any drugs. She should be OK in a minute, she's likely simply stressed from the shock.” Yeah, no kidding Sam thought, and looked at the doctor.

“Can I take her home when she wakes up?” Sam asked, and the doctor nodded.

\--- 

There are two locks on the motel doors, and Dean likes looking at them. They make him feel as safe as he might allow, and he likes that the brass knobs glint just so when clicked shut. The whole room – its intimacy and closeness – makes him feel all warm and snuggly, but that just might the eight blankets and four pillows that Sammy wrapped around him.

He isn't quite used to this body yet. How do girls sleep with these things? He thinks that a lot as he shifts, trying to get comfortable but not getting it quite right. He's afraid that he might be getting used to it, and the thought is pretty damn scary.

The damn incubaby shifts, and Dean unconsciously rests his hand on his stomach, as if trying to soothe it. His motion drew Sam's attention, and Sam grimaced at the thought of being an uncle.

“You sure you're OK?” Sam asks, all concern and big eyes, and Dean laughed a little.

“You've wrapped me up in enough blankets that I'd feel toasty all through a nuclear winter.”

Sam laughed sharply, the stress of the whole thing showing at the corners of his eyes and in his tense knuckles. Dean saw it, and tried to crack a joke. “Can you imagine me as a mommy?” He asked, and Sam looked at him, wary and with this weird fucking longing. It creeped him the hell out.

“Dude, are you trying to make me feel better? Because, uh, no. I'd rather listen to your dead baby jokes. Dead damn incubaby jokes, preferably.”

Dean played hurt. “Aww, you'll hurt it's feelings!” he said, and Sam finally laughed.

“Because that's really going to cause me some serious issues.”

Dean grinned. “Get over here, you've got no blankets and it's damn cold out.” Sam sighed expressively, got up from his chair, walked over to Dean's bed, and settled down beside him, as far away as he could without falling off the bed.

“I'm not that cold.” Sam said, and Dean called him a liar and laughed through his discomfort.

\--- 

The first thing that Sam noticed when he woke up was that he was very, very warm, in ways he hadn't been for a long time. He smiled, deep into the covers, and shifted, coming into contact with-

“-AHHHH!” Dean screeched, shot up straight, and pitched away from too-close Sam, nearly falling off the bed in the process. Sam reached out to grab Dean, but Dean flinched and fell off the bed anyways.

“Fuck, Sammy! What the hell was that!” Dean collected himself and got back on the bed, laying as far away from Sam as possible, grabbing up all the warm blankets and glaring. Sam scowled at him and got up, pacing in front of the laptop for a moment before turning back to face his brother, dragging his fingers through his sleepy-tousled-good morning hair.

“How the hell should I know? I barely touched you!” Sam made dismissive little motions in the air and paced some more. “Sorry if I freaked you out, dude.”

Dean shook his head. “That's not it – we've had to share beds before and I told you to come over here. There's no, err, weirdness. There's something else.” Dean dropped his head in a weird sense of defeat, shortish hair sweeping across his bizarrely feminine features. Sam wanted to be angry, he really did, but he couldn't. He stood across the room from Dean, and faced him head on.

“What I don't get, Dean, is how the doctor can touch you, the nurses can touch you, fucking everybody can touch you but if I get within a foot of you, or if you're thrashing around on the damn small bed sleeping and I reach out to calm you down or save you from falling off the bed you flinch, asleep maybe even, and I don't know why.” Dean shrugged and Sam sank down into the hard motel chair.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe it's the incubaby sensing your irrepressible charm and intense hatred and it wants to stay far, far away. Sounds reasonable to me.” Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean laughed, clear and tinkly, and smiled. “Seriously, it's probably part of the bodily possession thing. Really.”

“I'm thinking it's something else, like a connection or something we've got in common.” Sam thought out loud, and Dean considered it.

“Maybe it's because we're family – y'know, blood relation and all that.”

“So, what, it's because we're brothers?”

“Makes sense to me. The doctor can touch me, anyone can, I guess, but if you get too close I can't stand it.” Sam wasn't convinced. There's got to be something else, he thought, but he didn't have an awful lot of time to consider it when Dean's due date was probably about three days away.

\--- 

“Dean! Dean! Deandeandean DEAN!”

“Oh, shut up.” Dean rolled over, and felt the heavy discomfort of the thing growing inside him. He hated it, and hated the fact that he just couldn't kill it even more. He wanted to – so damn bad – but his body just wouldn't let him. It fucking sucked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and Sam hated how that motion made him feel all melty and warm inside.

“Listen, Dean, I think I figured it out.” Sam took a deep breath, and let it all out as quickly as he possible could. “This is pretty damn old, but it's the only text I could dig up, aside from breaking into the Vatican Secret Archives-”

“Wait, is that an option? Can we do that? I always wanted to do that-”

“Yeah, whatever – it's the only text I could find, and basically it says that when you actually kill off an incubus, not just send it back to hell, it does this phoenix thing, that whole rise-from-the-ashes, except that the ashes part is what's left of you after it's done with your body.”

Dean plopped over, a motion completely foreign to him but relatively well suited to his new body.

“Are you saying I'm doomed to a short, short life as a girl and then BBQ?”

“Something like that.” Sam glanced at his laptop, and quickly looked away, seemingly steeling himself before delivering some deadly blow or something. “Here's where it gets at metaphysical. See, incubi are male sex demons, as opposed to-”

“Succubi, the female sex demons, I know” Dean wasn't too fond of the direction this conversation was taking, especially since he knew that demons were all hard to kill and this one was apparently the fucking motherfucker shit shit damn-

“Actually, as opposed to, er, love. Love. See, lust and fucking and all that – that's all about power and control and stuff, feeling satisfied with yourself, getting something for yourself. Love, see, that's all about the other person. It's generous and caring and your damn incubaby just can't deal, that's it's whole anti-thesis and they can't exist in the same space. It'll go poof. Or, at least, it ought to. I think.”

Sam watched Dean carefully. He could tell he was getting more and more uncomfortable, all sweaty and not wanting to hear what Sam was saying, not wanting to understand despite the fact it was relatively reasonable, especially when compared to some of the other unpleasantness they've had to deal with. “So, you're saying that, uh, um,” He concentrated hard, and finally bit out “that, er, love is the answer?” Oh, shoot me now.

“Basically, yeah.” Sam didn't really want to add that the incubus abolished existing emotions and only love that was already there but deep deep down would solve anything. It was a pretty big gamble – that his brother maybe felt the same as he did. Huge fucking gamble but it was the only thing that would work. “Guh.” was all Dean said, and Sam privately agreed.

Sam knew what he had to do, and he knew that Dean sure as hell wasn't going to like it at fucking all. Sam stood up, walked over to Dean's bed, and took a deep, deep breath.

“I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to end this damn incubaby.” Sam said, all feeling and force, and for a second Dean was pretty fucking scared.

“Uh, Sammy, there's no need to be all drastic, we can figure something out, really. Honestly. I swear. No need to, uh...ow. Ow ow ow. OK, shit, that needs to stop!” Dean crawled back on the bed, as far away from Sam and his reaching hands as he could, and he looked at Sam with something akin to pleading. Sam wouldn't stop. “Look, I know what you're doing – I appreciate it, really! But can we save this for later?! I'm about to hurl all over your pretty face and that would be a tragedy!” Dean shifted away from Sam, the intent look on his little brother's face scared the beejeezus out of him, but Sam followed him down on to the bed and when Dean couldn't wriggle any farther down and Sam finally touched him, he almost couldn't hold back the sounds he'd thought were only in his imagination.

Sam could see him sweating and uncomfortable, and it helped a little. At least he knew that his half-assed plan was working, even if they were both going to completely regret it the second the harsh morning sunlight hit the worn motel bedspreads. He took Dean by the shoulders, his weight bearing them both down. He could feel Dean squirming and hot beneath him, pain written all over his pretty girl face, and the damn incubaby kicking at him as if that would solve all its problems.

“Sam, you're hurting me. Sam – Sam, I will kick you in the fucking balls if you don't get off me. You'll never be able to have your own children and-”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam said, and leaned in, close to Dean's ear where he knew Dean would hear him through the pain of miscarrying demon hellspawn. I love you.

He said it quietly, wanting to avoid pissing off the damn incubaby even though it was already way, way past that point. I love you, he breathed, and Dean's eyes squeezed shut with pain and his teeth clenched and the way he was fighting Sam would leave huge dark bruises in the morning. “I love you, and you love me.” Sam whispered, at last, and Dean gasped against him, deep and aching. He stilled suddenly, and Sam knew that it was over. There would be hell of a mess to clean up, but it was over.

“Dean, are you OK?” he asked carefully.

“Oh, Sammy.” Dean breathed. And that's when Sam finally came home.

\--- 

There was an elbow digging into his ribs, and it was damn uncomfortable. It'd been a few hours since they would have salted and torched the poor dead damn incubaby, just to be safe, but it had disappeared as if it had never existed and this whole being up and awake for hours and hours on end was really starting to annoy him. Dean would really just rather get back to what he was doing, but first he needed to get more comfortable. He shifted, rolled over, and suddenly noticed that he had no boobies anymore. He also noticed that Sam was watching him, an amused and surprisingly happy expression on his face.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Dean said, with agonizing slowness, implying with every syllable that he would really rather just be sleeping off the stress of the last week wrapped in the warmth around him. Sam eyed the way that Dean didn't move away from him but towards him, and the way that his elbow has suddenly turned into Dean's personal pillow or how their knees touched, back to front.

He had a feeling that they were going to be speaking of this again and again and again. He didn't mind at all.


End file.
